FIRE! Bridge Story 1
by The Inner Genie
Summary: This is the first of the "bridge" stories that tell what happened to our favorite explorers between "The Future is Back" and "The Five Keys". Feedback appreciated.


FIRE! (Bridge Story #1 - TCoTP) By The Inner Genie 8/3/02  
  
This is the first "bridge" story in The Children of the Plateau series. These stories will cover the twelve years between The Future is Back and The Five Keys and will explain how the plateau and the people changed in that time. Please let me know what you think of them.  
  
This is my alternate universe and will not necessarily incorporate all the characters or all of the events of the television show.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I will never make a profit from this story. Period.  
  
(Two weeks after the conclusion of THE FUTURE IS BACK - present timeline)  
  
Thunder rumbled as storm clouds formed in the night sky over the jungle canopy. Thunderheads rose higher and higher as the storm sucked the jungle's hot, moist air into its billowing folds. Clouds, lit from within by great balls of lighting, glowed like huge golden lanterns. The growing storm, like a giant, overpowering beast, swallowed the plateau. The electric air snapped and crackled with energy, and the thunder grew louder.  
  
The hot, humid night had made sleep come late to the dwellers of the treehouse, but, somehow, despite the uncomfortable feel of damp bedclothes on even damper skin, sleep had claimed them one by one.  
  
Marguerite Krux tossed restlessly in her narrow bed. Her lace camisole and knee-length pair of pale blue knickers were the only coverings on her long, slim body. Earlier, in an effort to feel cooler, she had piled her thick, dark hair on top of her head and secured it with an enamel clip. As she slept, curly strands came loose and stuck to her damp face. She turned again and flung one arm over her head.  
  
It wasn't just the heat that caused her to toss and turn, the distant sound of thunder had turned her dreams into a familiar nightmare.  
  
She was running through a battlefield, her hand, deep in her pocket, was clutching something small and oh, so valuable. Her enemies were close behind her, indistinct in the gray twilight, but she knew who they were and that they wanted the treasure that she had risked so much to obtain. They were close behind her now, firing their guns at her as they ran. She zigzagged her way across the muddy field, dodging around the blank-faced soldiers as the deadly bullets, meant for her, hit them instead. Tears streamed down her face as the innocent men fell. She didn't mean for anyone to get hurt, but she knew that she couldn't stop; she couldn't give back the precious object that would soon answer all her questions.  
  
A bullet slammed into a soldier just ahead of her. He crumpled to the ground, blood spurting out of a hole in his neck. She tried to avoid his lifeless body, but she was running too fast to stop. Her feet kicked into his side and she fell forward. She put out her free hand to break her fall and the black mud oozed up between her fingers. She landed heavily, half on and half off of the dead man. She reared back on her knees, resting her filthy hand on the soldier's chest. Her guilty mind filled with the words "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! As the sound of the guns grew louder and closer, she glanced at the face of the stranger, dead for her sake. She gasped. Her mind reeled, trying to deny what it saw. This was no stranger that lay dead in the muddy field; this was a man she knew well, a man that she cared for.that she cared a great deal for!  
  
"John!" she screamed, sitting straight up in her bed.  
  
A jagged bolt of lighting lit up the treehouse as Lord John Roxton ran into her room, followed closely by Ned Malone and Veronica Layton. They were pulling on hastily grabbed up clothes.  
  
Marguerite's eyes were only for John. She jumped out of bed and flung herself against. She ran shaking hands over his face and neck.  
  
"John, you're okay! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I never meant for anyone to get hurt," she sobbed, her wet cheek cold against his warm skin  
  
Roxton put his arms around her and rubbed her back.  
  
"There, there, Marguerite. Of course I'm okay. No need to be sorry. No one's hurt. Now, what's the matter?" He could feel her heart pounding in her chest.  
  
Recently, he felt that their relationship was progressing. Lord knows, they still had their fights and arguments, but they were over sooner and forgiven sooner. She had even allowed him to steal a kiss and a cuddle now and then without putting up her defenses. They had developed a certain trust in each other, had even shared secrets about their pasts, and that was very encouraging to him. He felt that they were well on their way to a public acknowledgment of their feelings.  
  
However, for the last two weeks, ever since all of them had woken up out in a clearing in the jungle with no memory of why they were there, Marguerite had been acting strangely towards him. It seemed that she was back to her old game of surrender and retreat. He often caught her looking at him. Usually her look would be puzzled, as if she didn't know what compelled her to stare, but occasionally she would send him a look of such tenderness that his heart leapt. It was these looks that made him think that finally she was truly ready to accept and return his feelings. When he pulled her into his arms, she would melt into him at first and then, as of old, become rigid and pull away. He could swear that she was just as puzzled by her behavior as he was.  
  
Now, here she was again, holding on to him as if she would never let go. He could feel her love and caring. He wondered again at her refusal to admit her feelings for him.  
  
Marguerite looked up to tell him her dream, and saw Ned and Veronica standing, dumbfounded, in the doorway. They had never seen the emotionless heiress so overcome or so unaware of how inappropriately she was dressed.  
  
Marguerite was suddenly aware that her dream might reveal more about her then she wanted known, so she took a deep breath and swallowed her tears. She pushed herself away from John's embrace, and grabbed up her dressing gown. She kept her head down as she fiddled with the sash. Then she looked up and tried to laugh off her hysterics, but her laugh was pathetic, sounding more like a series of hiccups. She didn't laugh a second time.  
  
"I'm.I'm sorry to have awakened you.all," she stammer the apology. "It was just a silly nightmare. Nothing more. Please don't let me keep you from your sleep."  
  
Her voice had gained some of its strength as she spoke. She waved them off in her usual imperious manner.  
  
Ned and Veronica shrugged and turned to go back to their beds. They were used to Marguerite's odd, arrogant behavior.  
  
Roxton didn't budge. He sighed in resignation. She'd done it to him again. He put his hands behind his back and cocked one eyebrow at her.  
  
"You might fool those two, Marguerite, but you're not fooling me. That must have been some nightmare to get you so upset. Want to tell me about it?"  
  
The lightening flashes were coming so close together now, that the room was lit as if from a strobe light. Marguerite sat on her bed and looked down at the floor. Now that the nightmare had faded, she didn't want to tell John about it. She bit her lip as her mind fumbled furiously for some explanation that would satisfy him.  
  
"I really overreacted, John," she explained finally. "I dreamt that you were hurt.shot, and I was worried about you. That's all." She laughed lightly. "Silly of me, wasn't it? It must have been the thunder I heard."  
  
A half-truth was always easier to believe than a whole lie. She looked sideways up at him to see if he believed her.  
  
He was scowling down at her suspiciously. But, before he could voice his skepticism, and, as if to confirm her story, thunder boomed deafeningly overhead as the rain finally came. It fell in torrents, like a river from the sky.  
  
Marguerite jumped up, thankful for the distraction.  
  
"Come on," she said. "We need to move the furniture back from the balcony before it gets wet."  
  
She dashed from the room. Roxton, with a growl of frustration, followed.  
  
They had dragged the furniture out onto the balcony earlier in the evening in the faint hope of catching a breeze. Luckily, the overhang from the roof had kept most of the rain off of it. The two of them made quick work of that job, but securing the roll down bamboo shades that covered the balcony opening was another matter. A strong wind had come in with the rain and the shades flapped and shuttered as Roxton held them down while Marguerite tied them at the corners.  
  
"Hold them still, Roxton," Marguerite complained, as another string was jerked out of her fingers.  
  
The wind, and especially the constant lighting and explosions of thunder, made her jumpy. Even Roxton's voice wasn't as assured as usual. He snapped back at her.  
  
"I'm doing the best I can, Marguerite. Tie faster."  
  
Just as he finished speaking, a fierce gust of wind whipped the shade out of his hands, ripped it from its moorings and sent it, along with a stinging sheet of rain, right into the treehouse. The two of them, and a good deal of the living area, were soaked in seconds.  
  
Cussing royally, Roxton tried to catch the flying shade. Marguerite shrieked as the cold rain turned her satin dressing gown into a sodden, dripping mess.  
  
Seconds later, her shriek of anger was turned into a shriek of fear as the inside of the treehouse lit up with a lighting flash brighter than any before. The thunder of its strike sounded simultaneously with a ripping, tearing explosion of sound.  
  
Roxton grabbed Marguerite and pulled her down onto the floor. He covered her with his body until he realized that it wasn't the treehouse that had been hit. He jumped up and ran to the balcony. Looking out at the jungle through the opaque wall of rain, he saw a yellow glow off to his right.  
  
Without taking his eyes off of the flickering light, he waved Marguerite over.  
  
"Come quickly and look over there, Marguerite."  
  
As she came up beside him, reluctant to stand in the rain again, he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. He pointed to the growing light in the distance.  
  
"Do you see that? It's hard to tell in this damn rain, but isn't the Zanga village over that way?"  
  
"I think so," she said slowly. "Let's get Veronica up. She'll know."  
  
"Good idea."  
  
Before they could turn around, the heard Veronica's voice behind them.  
  
"What's going on up here? Is everything all right? What are you two doing out there in the rain?"  
  
They whirled around to see Veronica, dressed in her short skirt and halter, standing at the top of the stairs. Ned was coming up behind her, stuffing his shirttails into his pants.  
  
"Oh, Veronica," Marguerite said, glad, for once, to see her. "We were just getting ready to come and get you."  
  
"Right," agreed Roxton. "We think that huge lightening strike must have hit something in the jungle. We can see flames glowing over that way," he said, pointing towards the glow as Veronica and Ned came over to join them at the balcony. "We're afraid it's near the Zanga village."  
  
The rain was letting up, and through the lifting storm, the first faint wisps of smoke blew into the treehouse.  
  
Veronica leaned over the railing and looked at the flames that were becoming more and more visible as the rainy mist in the night jungle was pulled away by the moving storm.  
  
"Oh, my god," Veronica exclaimed. "I'm afraid you're right. We must get over there and help them."  
  
She turned to Ned with fear in her eyes. She had many friends in the Zanga village.  
  
"We'll help them if we can, Veronica," Ned reassured her. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  
  
Roxton spoke up. "We'll be ready to leave just as soon as we change into dry clothes. Give us five minutes." He looked down at Marguerite's glare of disbelief.  
  
"Fine, ten minutes," he modified.  
  
"Ten minutes," Marguerite muttered under her breath. "What does he think I am? A quick change artist?"  
  
She picked up the skirt of her sodden gown and made her way carefully across the wet floor. Roxton was right behind her, ready to catch her if she slipped. As worried as he was about the fire, he couldn't help thinking it was a pity that Marguerite had to change out of that damp, clinging gown.  
  
As they reached the top of the stairs, Marguerite turned her head over her shoulder and drawled, "Maybe you'd better step out in the rain again, Lord Roxton, I think the jungle isn't the only thing on fire."  
  
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Marguerite," Roxton said haughtily.  
  
Marguerite's come back died on her lips as Ned rushed past them to go and wake Challenger up. Professor Challenger's clever ideas were needed for the task ahead of them.  
  
**  
  
It wasn't long before they were making their way towards the Zanga village. Each of them carried a pitch torch, for the jungle was very dark and still dripping wet. The smoke from the fire wasn't as thick closer to the ground, but the smell of burning filled their nostrils.  
  
Veronica led the way. The path was narrow and only visible to the keen- eyed jungle girl. The rest of them followed her single file, with Roxton bringing up the rear.  
  
He felt strangely restless. He knew the seriousness of the fire, but couldn't concentrate on what to do. Usually, his fertile mind would be working out the anticipated problems, the possible solutions, and the consequences these would bring. But, tonight, his mind was full of thoughts of Marguerite. He was obsessed with questions that kept replaying themselves through his mind. Why did his feelings for her seem so close to the surface? Was she thinking about him, too? What changed? What set back the progress they had made in their relationship? Was it something he had done?  
  
"Damn!" he exclaimed. In his deep introspection, he hit his head smartly on a low branch and the drops of water, shaken loose, came raining down on his hat and shoulders.  
  
Unfortunately, the majority of the water fell on Marguerite who was walking only steps in front of him.  
  
"Arrrggg," she shouted. Her torch sputtered and went out. She stopped and lowered her head and hunched her shoulders against the onslaught. When she dared raise her head again, her hair, once again, lay on her head flat, wet and dripping. Her recently dry shirt clung clammily to her skin.  
  
She turned around and glared at him. There was no softness in her eyes tonight.  
  
"Are you trying to drown me? What, you didn't get me wet enough in the treehouse, so you're trying to finish the job out here? Don't just stand there with your mouth open. Explain yourself!"  
  
Roxton took off his hat and touched the very sore cut on his forehead. He knew that he could expect no sympathy from her. But, it was an accident. She needn't bellow at him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Marguerite," he said, his temper rising, his insecurity about them fanning the flame. "I ran into a branch and hit my head rather hard, I'll have you know. You'd think you could ask if I'm all right! Though, why I'd expect such politeness and consideration from you is beyond me!"  
  
He stepped forward to stand toe to toe with her. Both of them were in a raging temper. They were breathing hard, as if they'd run a marathon.  
  
The cut on Roxton's head began to bleed. The blood mixed with the water on his face, and a bloody river ran into his eyes.  
  
A bright torch lit the jungle behind Marguerite and Ned Malone gasped, "What did you do to him, Marguerite?"  
  
She swirled around to face him. He backed up a few steps.  
  
"WHAT DID I DO TO HIM?" she asked in a dangerous hiss. "Are you asking me what I did to him?" she said again, so that there would be no misunderstanding.  
  
Ned gulped and backed up again.  
  
"Well, I.," he stammered.  
  
Marguerite shoved her spent torch into his hand and grabbed his  
  
"Why don't you ask me what I'd like to do to him?" she snarled into Ned's face. "MEN!"  
  
And leaving the two men staring speechlessly after her, she stormed off.  
  
Ned turned to his friend. "What was that?" he asked.  
  
Roxton crammed his hat onto his head, oblivious to the bloody cut. His eyes stared after her as if they could reach out and shake her. He pushed past Ned as if he weren't there and stomped after her.  
  
Caught off guard and without a torch, Ned yelled, "Hey!" and ran after him.  
  
Marguerite, muttering to herself, caught up with Challenger and Veronica, who had stopped to wait for the rest of their party.  
  
"Marguerite," Veronica called when she came in sight. "Where are Ned and Roxton?"  
  
"Dead, I hope," she muttered darkly.  
  
She stopped beside Veronica and held her torch high.  
  
"Let me give you some advice, Veronica. Stay away from men. They'll only give you grief.and that's on the good days!"  
  
Veronica frowned at her and said sharply, "Give it up, Marguerite. We've had enough of you and Roxton and your relationship, if you could call it that. We're sick of your bickering. We're sick of your fighting. We're sick of the way you treat him. Why don't you just tell him you love him and get it over with? We have more important things to do."  
  
"Love him!" she sputtered. "You're daft. I can't stand the man. He's arrogant and self-centered and.and.and."  
  
"And what, Marguerite?" Roxton asked, looming out of the darkness. "If I'm so horrible, why do you keep coming after me with your teasing ways? I don't know why I bother with you!"  
  
"Bother with me!" she howled. "So now I'm a bother, am I?"  
  
Veronica rolled her eyes and appealed helplessly to Challenger.  
  
"Can't you do something, Challenger? I can't take this anymore. You'd think they were an old married couple the way they fight!"  
  
Challenger pulled on his beard and cleared his throat.  
  
He stepped closer to the sparring couple.  
  
"I now pronounce you husband and wife!" he said loudly.  
  
They both turned their heads to him and said, "What?!!!"  
  
"I just married you. Now you're expected to fight," he said calmly. "Let's get going. Or have you forgotten why we're out here? Come," he gestured to them, "the Zanga need our help."  
  
They glared at him, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable. Challenger's tactic had given them a glimpse of how they must appear to others. Besides, getting permission to fight had taken some of the fight out of them.  
  
They turned to follow him.  
  
Ned, who had come into the glow of light in time to hear Challenger's unexpected words, lit his torch from Veronica's and whispered, "What happened?"  
  
Veronica shook her head. "Don't ask," she said.  
  
Meanwhile, the "newlyweds' walked beside each other, silently fuming.  
  
"I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on the plateau," she whispered to him. "I'd rather marry.Tribune!"  
  
"Well.I'd rather marry.Ned!" Roxton whispered back, not thinking clearly.  
  
Marguerite giggled. He became so adorably flustered sometimes. "Now, that's a wedding I wouldn't want to miss."  
  
Roxton glanced over at her. "Well, you get my point," he said bitterly.  
  
They were silent for a moment.  
  
"How's your head?" she asked softly.  
  
Taken aback by her mild tone, Roxton put his hand to his wound.  
  
"It's stopped bleeding, I believe."  
  
"I'll bandage it when we get home," she said.  
  
He stared at her to see what she was about, but she was concentrating hard on stepping over a fallen branch.  
  
"Yes.thank you," he said in a puzzled voice.  
  
They continued along the path, shooting covert glances at each other.  
  
**  
  
The closer they got to the Zanga village, the closer they got to the fire. They could hear it snapping and crackling overhead, the smoke not quite reaching the ground. Twice they had to hide as a pack of raptor came running past them heading for the river. They heard the unmistakable bellow of tyrannosaurs in the distance. Small mammals scampered and jumped from tree to tree, and those that could burrow to safety beneath the jungle's thick, damp soil, did so.  
  
As they got within half a kilometer of the Zanga village, they heard shouting ahead and picked up the pace. The smoke was now swirling around them and the heat of the fire was quickly drying their damp clothing.  
  
Out of the smoke, as thick as any London fog, staggered a group of Zanga. Women with babies in their arms and small children holding onto their skirts gasped and choked as they stumbled out of the swirling smoke. Older children followed close behind them, each child laden with as many household items as he or she could carry. Several of the boys were half leading, half dragging a herd of small, terrified goats behind them.  
  
Veronica rushed forward to grab a baby from a woman in her late thirties who seemed to be overcome by the smoke.  
  
"Here, sit down, Tillaka," she urged. "The smoke is thinner near the ground."  
  
Tillaka sank gratefully to the jungle floor. "Thank you, Ronee," she croaked to Veronica.  
  
Veronica was glad to help Tillaka. She revered the older woman, who had been a great help to her since her parents had disappeared.  
  
Tillaka, as one of the few childless women of the village, satisfied her maternal instincts by teaching the children. She was not only very smart, but she was also very wise. All of the women and children, and even some of the men, came to her for advice. Over the years, her teaching had made a difference to the tribe. The young men and women who had had her kind and encouraging words impressed upon them from childhood, grew up with a thirst for knowledge and understanding of the world they lived in. They invented and improved many items in their everyday life. They studied the habits of the animals they caught and the properties of the herbs and grains they harvested. The Zanga were getting the reputation among the other tribes they traded with of being an advanced and enlightened people. Their old king Jacoba fought against this new way of doing things, while his only child Assai and her husband Jarl were among the most enthusiastic innovators.  
  
As Tillaka recovered her breath, Veronica handed the baby to his mother and stooped down next to her mentor.  
  
"Where are Assai and Jarl, Tillaka?" she asked. She was very worried about her friends. Assai was pregnant with her first child and was very close to her time.  
  
"You know her, Ronee. She would not come with the women," she said, shaking her head. "She stayed behind with the men, to see that everyone got out safely." She sighed. "The men will try to save as many things as they can, but I am afraid not much will be left."  
  
"The village is lost?" asked Veronica, sadly.  
  
The older woman, who was the strongest person Veronica knew, had tears in her eyes as she answered her with a nod.  
  
"We must find a new home, Ronee. But, right now, we need a place for the children and their mothers to rest and food for them to eat."  
  
Veronica didn't hesitate. "You are all welcome to rest at my treehouse, Tillaka. We'll find room for everyone. When they have rested, we'll get going."  
  
"Wait a minute, Veronica," said Marguerite. "Just where are we going to put all these people? The treehouse is barely big enough for us, let alone a whole village!"  
  
Veronica stood up and faced the outraged woman.  
  
"In case you've forgotten, Ms. Krux, the treehouse belongs to me and I will invite anyone I please to stay there. I'm not too picky, I took you in, didn't I?"  
  
Marguerite folded her arms across her chest, but didn't pursue the subject.  
  
Looking around at the frightened shocked faces of the newly homeless people, Veronica's heart went out to them. She noticed a young mother trying to carry both her twin babies and a bag of hastily packed belongings. She hurried over and whispered to the mother, and at her nod, took one of the crying infants and thrust it into Marguerite's arms.  
  
"Here, Marguerite, why don't you carry one of our new houseguests? Oh, and be careful, I don't think this one is wearing a diaper."  
  
"Ewww," Marguerite said, holding the child away from her. "Please, Veronica, take it back!"  
  
Veronica smiled and shook her head. She walked away to see when the women would be rested enough to continue on to the treehouse.  
  
Marguerite, still holding the child as far from her as she could, walked over to Roxton, Ned, and Challenger.  
  
"My, my, Marguerite," smirked Roxton. "What a warm, maternal picture you present."  
  
She rolled her eyes at him and turned to Challenger and Ned.  
  
"Please, can't I come with you to fight the fire? I really think I'd be much more useful there then playing nursemaid to a bunch of..."  
  
Challenger shook his head. "Now, now, my dear. We must show compassion for those less fortunate. We were homeless not too long ago and where would we be today if Veronica hadn't taken us in?" He sighed. "And, I'm afraid that it's futile to try to fight this fire, Marguerite. I suspect it will burn itself out when it reaches the river. The best thing we can do is to help the tribe save as many of their belongs as we can."  
  
Ned, who had been cooing at the baby, raised his head to offer his ideas to his friends.  
  
"We can set up tents around the treehouse until they find another place to settle. If the men hunt, there should be enough food to feed everyone.  
  
"Good idea, Ned," said Roxton. "I think it's time for us to go. Veronica and Marguerite can take the women and children back to the treehouse."  
  
He turned to the fuming woman, who was now cradling the child in her arms. "Now Marguerite," he said, before she could protest. "You know that the women will feel more comfortable with you two. Besides, I think you might be taking on the more dangerous and difficult job. All we have to do is fight a fire, you have to try to get twenty-five children to sleep."  
  
He looked at her as she unconsciously rocked the baby from side to side. The tiny girl had stopped fussing and was blinking her eyes sleepily. She made a small cooing noise and Marguerite smiled down at her. Roxton's heart leapt at that smile. He suddenly saw Marguerite, not as the annoying, irritating, frustrating woman he loved, but as a mother that one day he hoped she would be. Whether she would admit it or not, her maternal instincts were not far below the surface.  
  
Marguerite looked up and saw him smiling down at the baby. "What a wonderful father he'll be." That thought jumped into her mind, startling her and, at the same time, making her feel strangely happy. She knew that her feelings for John had been seesawing between two extremes for weeks. One minute she was overwhelmed with a tender, sweet, yes--even loving feeling for him, and the next, she would find everything he said and did a torment to her. Maybe it was better if she stayed away from him for a while. Maybe then she could sort out her feelings.  
  
"You're right, John. I could be more helpful at the treehouse."  
  
Her sudden turnaround took him by surprise. Cooperation and logical thinking were not her strong points.  
  
He nodded his head. "Then you and Veronica had better get going." Before you change your mind, he thought to himself.  
  
He started to turn away when he was overwhelmed by his feelings for her.his more tender feelings. He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.  
  
"Be careful on the way home. Remember the raptors."  
  
She looked at the love in his eyes and gave him a beautiful smile, one he hadn't seen in a while.  
  
"We will be." She lowered her voice. "You be careful, too. I wouldn't want." she cleared her throat, suddenly thinking better of what she was going to say. "I wouldn't want to hear all the whining you would do if you burned yourself," she finished in an aggravated voice.  
  
She'd done it again! She knew she wasn't aggravated with him, but with herself.  
  
Roxton knew it, too. He laughed softly as he turned away and shook his head. "One of a kind," he murmured to himself.  
  
**  
  
The hazy morning sun was already up as Veronica and Marguerite led their troop of women, children and goats through the electric fence to the base of the treehouse.  
  
The children were fussing and crying with hunger. The women, as tired and distressed as they were, quickly took bolts of cloth out of their meager belongings and set up several lean-tos against the shady side of the tree trunk. They spread thin blankets under the makeshift shelters and placed the babies and small children in the shade to rest. The older children, glad to rid themselves of their heavy burdens, dropped them on the ground and sat down, leaning back against the piles.  
  
The women didn't let them rest for long. As soon as the shelters were made, they told them to get up and look around for anything eatable. As most of the children wandered off, several resourceful ones found Veronica's garden and soon came running to their mothers proudly showing them the vegetables they had found.  
  
It wasn't long before the women had fires going, bread and soup cooking, babies nursed and put down under the canopies to nap, water brought from the spring, the goats milked and penned in with a temporary fence, and their belongs packed away.  
  
Marguerite watched in wonder. She sidled up to Veronica.  
  
"I think I owe you an apology, Veronica. I assumed they would all be up in the treehouse. I never imagined they could set up all of this." She looked around in awe at the peaceful, organized village the women had created.  
  
Veronica smiled with satisfaction. "They are a remarkable people," she said. "Wait until the men get here to help, then you'll really see something."  
  
Tillaka walked up to them and pulled Veronica into a hug.  
  
"We thank you, Ronee, for sharing your home with us. Your gift will not go unrewarded."  
  
Veronica pulled back and smiled warmly. "Having you so near is reward enough, Tillaka. I was hoping that you would take a room in the treehouse."  
  
Tillaka shook her head. "You are always so kind to me, but I must stay down here with my family. The young mothers need my help."  
  
"Well, I hope we'll have the chance from many long talks," Veronica told her.  
  
Tillaka smiled. "That I can promise you."  
  
"Tilly, Tilly!" a young voice called. "I can't find Ricco!"  
  
Tillaka patted the pouch that hung around her waist. "I have him safely in here, Meela," she said as she walked over to a little girl and handed her a cloth dinosaur. Meela grinned up at her.  
  
Marguerite and Veronica smiled at the adorable child. They both let out a wistful sigh at the same time.  
  
They looked at each other uncomfortably. They didn't share many things with each other and certainly not their hopes for the future.  
  
Veronica was the first to look away.  
  
"I guess we'd better get up to the treehouse and rest before the men get back. We're going to be very busy for a while."  
  
"Lead the way," Marguerite agreed.  
  
As she stepped into the elevator, she whispered, "I hope our men are all right."  
  
Veronica looked curiously at her again. "Me, too," she said.  
  
**  
  
Despite the wet handkerchiefs held over their mouth and nose, the three men coughed as they hurried as fast as they could towards the Zanga village.  
  
They knew they weren't far away because they could hear the shouts of the Zanga men as they tried to rescue what they could from the relentless fire. Minutes later, they came to the tall stockade built around the village. Through the swirling smoke, they could see flames licking up the north side of the tall fence. Tiny flames appeared as the fire caught the sharp splinters of the roughly cut wood, then, seconds later, the posts disappeared behind a glowing curtain.  
  
Guided by the shouts, they stumbled through the wooden gate that was the only opening in Zanga's defensive perimeter. They could see the dim outlines of the huts and lodges that made up the inner village. Out of the gloom, a familiar face appeared.  
  
"Thanks be to Atunga that you are here," Jarl choked out. "It is Assai! I think she is going to have the baby now!"  
  
Challenger stepped forward. "Take me to her at once," he commanded. They all followed Jarl as he raced back to a hut furthest from the burning wall. Challenger pushed aside the cloth curtain and disappeared into the dim interior. Jarl stood helplessly outside the doorway wringing his hands in agitation.  
  
"Jarl, Jarl," Ned shouted to get his attention. "What can we do to help? Where is Jacoba?"  
  
Jarl looked at him distractedly. "Our king is a mad man," he said. "He refuses to leave his treasures." Jarl pointed to a lodge not far away. "He is trying to pack everything, yet he only has room for a few. First he puts one thing in and then changes his mind and throws that out and puts something else, just as useless, in. We cannot leave until he is satisfied."  
  
Ned and Roxton hurried over to the lodge. Inside they found Jacoba, the Zanga king, in a frenzy of indecision.  
  
Jacoba!" Roxton shouted.  
  
The old, fierce-looking man turned to them. His eyes, ringed by white paint, were red from the smoke and his long, painted braids swung around his once proud face like writhing snakes.  
  
"Ah, you have been sent by Atunga to carry my treasures to safety. Quickly, fill your packs! Nothing must be left behind. I will not go without my precious things."  
  
"Jacoba," Roxton shouted once again. "Your daughter needs you. Her child is coming. We must get her out of here!"  
  
"Assai?" the old man muttered. "Assai is playing with the other children. She is quite safe."  
  
Roxton and Ned looked at each other. Jarl was right. Jacoba was babbling like a madman. He would be no help to his people today.  
  
They left the once mighty leader to his madness and went back out into the village to do what they could to help.  
  
Some of the Zanga men had spread large pieces of heavy cloth outside each hut and were throwing household items, clothes and bedding onto it. Other men were chasing the tribe's cattle and sheep out into the jungle, hoping that the huge carnivores that roamed there had been frightened away by the fire. Later, they would find their herds, and bring them back to safety.  
  
Ned and Roxton helped where they could. As the men filled the ground cloths, Ned sent them out the gate and on their way to the safety of the treehouse. Roxton ran over to check on Assai. The village was no longer safe, they had to move out quickly.  
  
"Challenger!" Roxton shouted, sticking his head into the hut. "We have to go. Now!"  
  
Challenger and Jarl looked up. Jarl's face was pale under the soot that covered him.  
  
"We're ready to leave, Roxton. I don't think Assai's child will be born any time soon. But we must get her out of this smoke. It can't be good for either of them."  
  
Challenger stood up and picked up a bundle from beside Assai. It contained the baby clothes that she and the other women had so lovingly made for the new prince or princess of the Zanga. Jarl picked up his wife and carried her out the door. Assai clung to him, trying to stifle the occasional cries of pain her labor produced.  
  
The fire had gotten a strong grip on the stockade and, as they ran towards the gate, a large section of it crashed to the ground, setting several huts on fire.  
  
They stopped just outside the gate as a loud commotion erupted at the door to the king's lodge. Several men were trying to drag Jacoba from the smoldering building, but, in his madness, he thought they were trying to kill him and steal his treasures.  
  
An older man, sadness on his face, was trying to convince his king to leave.  
  
"Come away, Jacoba," he urged. "We have your treasure," he told him, pointing to four younger men who had the king's precious bundles slung over their shoulders. "We must leave!"  
  
Jacoba, still strong and made stronger by madness, pushed his old friend to the ground and screamed. "Villains! You would try to kill you king and steal his wealth?"  
  
He tugged mightily to free his arms from two men who were dragging him towards the gate.  
  
"Never!" he screamed. And, with one superhuman effort, he broke free from them and ran back into his lodge just as it burst into flame. Seconds later the fire, fed by the dry straw and timbers of the large dwelling, engulfed it with a whoosh, sending everyone rushing for their very lives through the gate and out into the jungle.  
  
"Father!" screamed Assai, reaching her arm out to him over Jarl's shoulder.  
  
"He is gone, Assai," Jarl told her gently. "He chose his own destiny and, now, we must chose ours and our child's."  
  
Assai pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed for her father. She knew all of his imperfections as a king, and as a man, but she had loved him anyway. But she also knew that Jarl was right. Their destiny lay ahead of them, not back in the burnt and wasted village that had been ruled for so many years by her greedy and often wicked father.  
  
**  
  
A cry went up from the women camped around the treehouse as the first of the men came through the gate. The men--husbands, fathers, brothers and sons--were greeted by hugs of joy. The women whose men had not yet returned, stood looking out into the jungle, hoping that their loved ones would not be far behind.  
  
From high up in the treehouse, Marguerite, who had given up trying to rest, stood at the balcony looking out at the smoke trails drifting up from the jungle. As she craned her head out over the railing, she could see the smoke that covered the jungle around the Zanga village. As she watched in horror, bright flames shot up above the trees and just as quickly died down.  
  
"No!" she shouted in panic.  
  
Veronica rushed up the stairs and to her side.  
  
"What's the matter, Marguerite?" she asked.  
  
Pointing to where thick smoke now rose into the sky, she cried, "I.I saw fire flare up just over there, just where you said the Zanga village was."  
  
Veronica leaned over beside her and drew in a deep breath.  
  
"I'm sure they're all right, Marguerite. They've had plenty of time to get clear."  
  
"I know they've had plenty of time." She said petulantly. "That's why they should be home by now."  
  
Seeing the very real distress on the other woman's face, Veronica, uncharacteristically, put her arm around her and hugged her.  
  
"I have every confidence in Roxton and Ned.and Challenger, too. You know each of them is perfectly capable of looking out for himself, but they're together.they'll be looking out for each other, too."  
  
Seeing that Marguerite seemed to be pulling herself together, she continued.  
  
"Just watch," she assured her. "They'll be here soon."  
  
"And acting the part of big heroes, no doubt," Marguerite added, hiding her worry behind her wall of sarcasm.  
  
Veronica smiled. "Why did Marguerite go to so much trouble to hide her feelings?" she wondered, not for the first time. They all knew that she and Roxton had strong feelings for each other. What they didn't know about, she mused, were the strong feelings she and Ned shared. Deciding not to follow Roxton's and Marguerite's example, they were working on their relationship in private. It was going very well.  
  
Just then they heard a cry go up from below.  
  
"They're back," Marguerite exclaimed. She rushed to the elevator with Veronica right behind her.  
  
The elevator seemed to take forever to descend. They burst out if it as soon as it reached the ground and ran to the noisy group gathered around the men.  
  
The crowd parted for them and the cry of "John!" that was on Marguerite's lips died away. She slumped in disappointment.  
  
Veronica, who knew the men, greeted them and questioned them as to the well- being of the others. Their answers did not completely lift the worry from her heart. She was particularly distressed to hear that her very good friend Assai was in labor. With all the problems Assai had been experiencing with this pregnancy, the fact that the baby was to be born two weeks early did not bode well.  
  
The happy women led their men off to feed them and to store the bundles they had brought from the village under one of the shelters.  
  
Marguerite and Veronica walked over to join the other women in their quiet vigil.  
  
An hour passed, then two.  
  
After a half an hour of standing by the fence, Veronica and Marguerite had returned to the treehouse to sit out on the balcony. Veronica sat, resting her arms on the balcony railing. Her chin resting on her hands. She was thinking about Ned and the last time they were alone. She smiled. She wasn't concerned about Ned's safety. She knew he would come back to her.  
  
For the first hour, Marguerite paced back and forth, wringing her hands and making comments as her path took her near the railing.  
  
"I'll kill him.them for making us worry like this," she grumbled.  
  
Three paces later.  
  
"How long does it take to get here from the Zanga village? Did they stop for a picnic?"  
  
Ten paces after that.  
  
"I knew I shouldn't have left him alone. The man is always rushing into danger without a thought for my feelings!"  
  
Well into the second hour, her comments changed.  
  
"Have you ever noticed the adorable way his eyes get all squinty when he smiles?"  
  
Veronica grunted. Taking that as a yes, she continued with a sigh.  
  
"His hands. They look so callused and rough, don't they? But they're surprisingly soft.and gentle."  
  
Veronica jumped up. "Okay, that's it. I've had more than I can stand."  
  
She grabbed Marguerite's arm and pulled her to the elevator.  
  
"Get your guns, Marguerite, we're going after them."  
  
After a second of shocked surprise, she grinned. "Now you're talking!" she crowed. "Why didn't I think of that hours ago?"  
  
"I wish you had," muttered Veronica.  
  
Minutes later they walked out of the gate and headed in the direction of the raging fire.  
  
**  
  
Assai involuntarily cried out as another labor pain hit her. Jarl, already exhausted from carrying her through the tangled jungle, cried out with her. Challenger rushed over.  
  
"Assai, we're almost there. Just think, in a few hours you'll have a sweet little baby to cuddle."  
  
Assai shot Challenger a barbed look. She was not thinking about a few hours from now, she was trying to deal with the present--and the present hurt!  
  
Ned came back to them.  
  
"Here, Jarl, why don't I take her for a little while, okay?  
  
"No, I am her husband and the father of this baby. It is only right that I carry her."  
  
"Well I don't mean I'll carry her the whole way, you know. I'll just carry her until you've caught your breath. This damn smoke is enough to make anyone pant. Just for a little while, I promise you," Ned said persuasively.  
  
"Let him, Jarl," Assai urged. "You will need all of your strength to help me when the baby is born. Ned is right. There is no shame in taking a rest."  
  
"All right," Jarl agreed grudgingly. "But I will carry her into the treehouse. My strength will protect my wife and child."  
  
"Agreed," Ned said as he took Assai from his arms. "When we near the treehouse I'll give her right back."  
  
Feeling Ned's strong arms lifting her effortlessly, Assai realized just how exhausted Jarl had become.  
  
They made faster progress now. Four of the Zanga men walked with them-two in front and two in back. They would protect their new queen. The riches they carried in the bundles over their shoulders were hers, now. They were honored to keep it safe for her. Behind them walked the older Zanga, who was the only one of them old enough to remember when Jacoba had replaced his father as king. He had seen him change from a spoiled young man into a despised tyrant. He prayed that Assai would have the strength to withstand the addiction of power.  
  
Roxton and Challenger walked together. Their heads bend in conversation. They were discussing the problems they would be facing in the near future. Food, water, and shelter were just of few of the problems they foresaw.  
  
Roxton raised his head. "Did you hear that?" he asked.  
  
"What?" Challenger said.  
  
"I thought I heard someone shouting. It sounded like Marguerite. Maybe the first group is in trouble. You stay here. I'll scout ahead."  
  
Challenger nodded as Roxton hoisted his rifle to his shoulder and took off at a fast pace. He moved through the jungle quickly but silently.  
  
Ahead, Marguerite and Veronica were anything but silent.  
  
"Roxton!" Marguerite called.  
  
"Malone! Challenger!" Veronica shouted.  
  
"Where the hell are they?" Marguerite demanded. Fear made her mad.  
  
"I guess they can't hear us yet," Veronica said. "We'll have to call louder."  
  
Again they began shouting for their friends.  
  
As Roxton got closer, he recognized their voices. At first he was puzzled. Why were they in the jungle? Didn't they make it to the treehouse with the women and children? Puzzlement turned to worry as he hurried to them. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and took out his pistols, ready to defend them all.  
  
The women stood in a small clearing, calling out, then waiting to hear a reply. Into one of these silences, Roxton jumped out from the smoke between the trees, waving his pistols.  
  
Startled and unprepared to defend themselves, the women, thinking him an attacker, leapt upon him and started beating the tar out of him.  
  
"Stop! Stop!" Roxton shouted, fending them off as best he could. "It's me. Roxton."  
  
Realizing their mistake, they stopped in mid-slug and backed away from him.  
  
He picked up his pistols from the ground where he'd dropped them and stuck them in his holsters.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked.  
  
They nodded.  
  
"Are you?" Marguerite asked anxiously.  
  
"I've been better," he answered ruefully. He rubbed the back of his head where Marguerite had yank hard on his hair.  
  
Veronica asked urgently, "Where is Assai? Is she all right?"  
  
"They're about a mile back that way, Veronica. And Assai is fine, I believe. Ned is carrying her now to give Jarl a break. Challenger thinks her baby won't be born for hours yet."  
  
Immediately, Veronica started off in the direction Roxton had pointed out. "I'll go back and check on her," she called over her shoulder as the smoky jungle swallowed her.  
  
Roxton turned to Marguerite. Unbelievably, she appeared a little shy.  
  
"Did you get everyone home safely?" he asked. He was curious about her attitude.  
  
"Yes"  
  
Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard. It only took him a few seconds before he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.  
  
When they broke apart, Roxton asked, "I guess that answers my next question."  
  
Marguerite cocked her head in question.  
  
"Were you worried about me?" he said with a smile. He raised one eyebrow waiting for her reaction.  
  
Marguerite, reminded of her grievance, slapped his arm.  
  
"Of course I was. What took you so long? I saw the village go up in flames. I didn't know if you were there or not."  
  
"Marguerite," he said placing a finger against her lips to stop her. "We were moving slowly because of Assai. I'm fine. Everyone is fine.well, except for Jacoba."  
  
"What happened to him?" Marguerite asked. Jacoba had never been a favorite of hers.  
  
Roxton told her what had happened. She shook her head. "Poor Assai," she said. "But it served him right, the greedy old bastard."  
  
Roxton laughed, then sobered. "He was a bastard," he agreed. Then he shuddered. "But no one deserves a death like that."  
  
Marguerite put her hand on his cheek.  
  
"Do you want to wait here for the rest of them, or do you want to go ahead to the treehouse?"  
  
He looked at her closely to see if he could tell what she wanted to do. Her gray eyes looked up at him, full of innocence.  
  
He sat down on a fallen log and pulled her down beside him. "I think I want to stay here," he whispered.  
  
A slow, satisfied, seductive smile spread across her face. Leaning in to him until their lips were only inches apart, she whispered back, "Me, too."  
  
**  
  
"Assai!" called Veronica as she caught sight of her.  
  
"Veronica," she exclaimed. "I am so happy to see you." She wiggled in Ned's arms. "Put me down, Ned," she asked.  
  
Ned set her down gently and she walked slowly over to Veronica and fell into her arms.  
  
"Oh, Veronica," she sobbed. "My father is dead!"  
  
Veronica hugged her as close as she could. "What?" She looked up at Ned. "How did it happen?"  
  
Ned told her while Assai sobbed in her arms.  
  
Assai let out a cry and doubled over. Immediately, Jarl was by her side.  
  
"My Assai," he told her. "Now is not the time to grieve. You can no longer help your father, but you can help our child."  
  
Assai straightened up and lifted her arms to her husband. He scooped her up.  
  
"We must hurry, Challenger. Tillaka will help Assai," Jarl said.  
  
They started off again. Challenger led the way. Ned and Veronica dropped behind so they could talk privately.  
  
As soon as the others were out of sight, Ned pulled Veronica into his arms.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Ned asked. "I was surprised to see you.happy but surprised."  
  
"Everything is fine. Marguerite got worried about Roxton, so we came to see what was holding you up."  
  
Ned was skeptical. "Marguerite actually said she was worried about John? Last time I saw them, they were screaming at each other."  
  
"Well, she didn't come right out and say it, but I could tell. She got real mushy about him, even."  
  
Ned shook his head at his friends' strange relationship. Then, he turned his attention to his own relationship.  
  
He pushed Veronica's golden hair away from her face.  
  
"Were you worried about me?" he asked her, playfully.  
  
She shook her head. "Not for a minute. I could feel your heart beating all the way to the treehouse."  
  
"Does that mean that you won't give me a welcome-home kiss?"  
  
"I didn't say that," she whispered and did.  
  
As they broke the kiss, Ned said wistfully, "With all that's going on, I don't think we'll have many chances to meet privately."  
  
"I don't guess we will," she agreed. "But it will be all the sweeter when we do."  
  
"I just don't want you to think I'm not thinking of you." Ned paused in thought. "I'll tell you what. When I.rub my chin, that will be me sending a kiss to you."  
  
Veronica smiled and kissed his chin. "I hope your chin can take all that rubbing!"  
  
Ned laughed. "Are you sure you still want to keep us a secret? There's no reason to, you know."  
  
"Definitely," she said, "and there is a reason."  
  
She hesitated. Ned looked at her with raised eyebrows.  
  
"A relationship is new to me, Ned. I don't want to work on it with everyone speculating on our every move. Just look at Marguerite and Roxton!"  
  
"Please, I look at them quite enough."  
  
"See what I mean, Ned. I don't want us to be talked about-to be made fun of, do you?"  
  
She was getting agitated. "Give me more time, Ned."  
  
"I promise you all the time you need, sweetheart."  
  
They hugged one more time, then hurried to catch up with the others.  
  
**  
  
Marguerite and Roxton had decided to go back to the treehouse after all. Their interlude had been quite pleasant, but they both knew that they were needed at home.  
  
As they walked into the gate, they were bombarded by questions. They answered them as best they could, but were soon overwhelmed. Tillaka rescued them, telling everyone that their questions would be answered as soon as the rest of them arrived.  
  
John invited her up to the treehouse and, this time, she accepted. She had a feeling that there was something that they hadn't told the others.  
  
They told her as gently as they could about Jacoba's death. Her reaction surprised them.  
  
"Hah!" she said, shaking her head. "Don't expect tears from me. He was a madman!" She thought a minute. "I do feel for Assai. She loved him. She loved him because she was a good daughter."  
  
Roxton and Marguerite looked at each other.  
  
"How will the others take the news?" Roxton asked, curiously.  
  
"A king is a king," she shrugged. "They will cry and pray to Atunga, because that is the right thing to do. But, their hearts will be singing with joy. Assai will be a good queen. She will listen to her people and think about their future.  
  
"Now, I have answered your questions. You must answer mine."  
  
They looked expectantly at her.  
  
"How is Assai? You have not said anything about her. Is she well?"  
  
"She was well the last time I saw her, Tillaka, but she was in labor," Roxton answered a little nervously.  
  
"Assai's time has come? You should have told me! I would have gone to her!"  
  
"Oh, everything is quite all right. Challenger says that she won't deliver for hours yet."  
  
"Phaw! Challenger? What does a scientist know about giving birth? I have delivered many, many babies, and even I cannot always say it will come now or it will come later. It comes when it comes."  
  
Marguerite heard shouting down below. She ran to the balcony and looked over.  
  
"Well, I guess we'll see when it comes. They're bringing Assai up in the elevator now."  
  
Tillaka looked around in panic. "How can I help her? I have nothing with me!"  
  
"What do you need, Tillaka," asked Marguerite. "We can get it for you."  
  
The older woman took a deep breath and got herself under control. She looked at Marguerite, assessing her. She made up her mind.  
  
"I will need a place for her to have her baby. A bed on the floor will be fine." She ticked things off on her fingers. "Blankets, water, a knife and many, many soft cloths."  
  
"I can do that. I can do that," Marguerite murmured. She ran down to the bedrooms to strip off the blankets and sheets.  
  
Roxton began gathering up the other things.  
  
The elevator reached the top and Jarl stepped off with Assai in his arms. Assai saw Tillaka and cried out.  
  
"Tillaka, my father is dead! What is going to happen to us?"  
  
"We will go on, Assai," Tillaka said calmly.  
  
Veronica, Challenger, and Ned stepped out of the elevator.  
  
"Put her in my bed, Jarl," she said. "I'll show you the way."  
  
They started down the stairs and met Marguerite coming up, her arms full of blankets and sheets.  
  
"What are you doing, Marguerite?" she asked.  
  
Taken aback, Marguerite stammered. "I'm.I'm getting blankets."  
  
"Did you take them off of my bed?"  
  
Marguerite nodded.  
  
"Well, put them back. We're putting Assai there."  
  
Marguerite rolled her eyes and mumbled to herself, "On the floor; on the bed; we need this; we need that. I just wish they'd make up their bloody minds."  
  
She was a very brave woman when it came to protecting herself or others, but when it came to domestic or family matters, she was out of her league. Her childhood had been unusual and unhappy, and her marriages were not for love or children. In fact, she was distinctly nervous that Assai was going to give birth in the treehouse. Tillaka surely wouldn't need her help now that Veronica was here. She decided that she'd just put the blankets back on the bed and make her escape.  
  
Veronica brushed past her as she and Ned clambered down the stairs.  
  
Marguerite flattened herself against the wall as Jarl carried Assai past her. Assai looked at her and gave her a little smile of recognition, but Marguerite could see that her concentration was elsewhere. Tillaka, her arms full of the items Roxton had gathered for her, hurried down behind her new queen. Marguerite followed after them and dumped the linens into Veronica's arms.  
  
Then, quickly scrambling up the stairs, she headed for the elevator. She'd just gotten up to the opening when she heard a familiar voice behind her.  
  
"Going somewhere, Marguerite?"  
  
She hunched her shoulders, but didn't turn around.  
  
"Just going out for a breath of fresh air, John."  
  
Roxton came up behind her.  
  
"Escaping, eh?" he whispered in her ear.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"I'm right behind you," he swore, bustling her into the elevator.  
  
Challenger, who had been leaning over the balcony railing, turned back into the room and said, "Good news, everyone. I think the fire has reached the river and is dying out."  
  
He moved off of the balcony and stepped into the silence of the treehouse.  
  
"Hello?" Where is everyone?"  
  
From the room below, he heard Assai's cry of pain.  
  
"Ah, much louder. Won't be long, now," he said rather insensitively.  
  
He looked around the deserted living area and, feeling a little at loose ends, muttered to no one, "I think I'll just pop down to my laboratory and check on my experiments."  
  
**  
  
The scene that greeted Roxton and Marguerite when they stepped out of the elevator was one of order, chaos, and lament.  
  
In the time that had passed since the last Zanga had entered the gate, the "village" at the base of the treehouse had not just grown, it had settled. The number of shelters had doubled, yet they were constructed so that there was an open area in the middle of them. In this area, a group of Zanga was gathered to mourn the passing of their king Jacoba. The cries of their sorrow were mixed with the chatter of the children and women who went about their business as if the mourners weren't there. It was soon apparent that those who had been chosen to honor the passing of their king were a token show of sorrow by a people who had been too long ruled by the ruthless tyrant.  
  
As the mourner finished and rose to their feet, a cry of "Assai! Assai!" rang out from everyone in the village. The men held their children up towards the treehouse so that their adoration could be heard by their new queen.  
  
Marguerite and Roxton smiled at the sense of peace and happiness that radiated from the Zanga.  
  
They knew that the Zanga's happiness had come to them at a huge price. They had lost their home and many of their belongs, yet, if they had been asked, they would have said that losing so much was a small price to pay to become free of the maniac king Jacoba.  
  
Suddenly, Marguerite was jerked back against Roxton's chest as, through the gate, a bleating river of goats was herded in by a rowdy group of Zanga youths. Not far behind them, another group came out of the jungle herding the cattle that they had let loose earlier. With much shouting and whistling, the animals were steered past the new village and straight into the hastily constructed enclosures. The safe return of their animals was the icing on the cake for the Zanga.  
  
They had all returned to their work, when a shout from the balcony of the treehouse was destined to raise their spirits even higher.  
  
Jarl stood on the balcony holding a small, well-wrapped bundle in his arms. Beside him, sitting carefully on a chair, was Assai. Tillaka was standing protectively behind her. Further back stood Challenger, Ned, and Veronica.  
  
Roxton and Marguerite moved to stand at the back of the crowd of Zanga. Marguerite leaned over to whisper in his ear.  
  
"Jarl really knows how to set the "Royal Family" scene."  
  
"Indeed," he whispered back, slipping his arm around her waist. She looked down at it, but didn't object.  
  
"Zanga," Jarl sang out in his deep, carrying voice. "Today, Assai, your queen, had given us all a great treasure. She has given us a new Zanga princess!" He paused to let the shouting die away. "She will be named Demila-- The Daughter of Kings!"  
  
"Demila! Demila!" the crowd cheered. Then, "Assai! Assai!"  
  
Assai stood slowly and gripped the balcony rail for support. The crowd grew quiet.  
  
"My father, your king, is dead and our village has been destroyed, but the Great Atunga has not deserted us. Our family is safe, and our friends here have offered to help us rebuild our home."  
  
She turned her head to smile at those behind her.  
  
"Near these good friends, we will build a new life for ourselves and our children." She looked over at her new daughter and smiled. "Our children will grow up in a world very different from the one we had before. They will be enlightened by learning about the world we live in and the world outside, they will be protected by a magic fence like the one around us now, and they will be given the chance to follow their own path wherever that leads them. We have come out of the fire reborn-a new people-a new Zanga!"  
  
As the cheers of the Zanga rang out over the jungle, their happy sounds reaching up to the very top of the canopy, the energy of the plateau shifted ever so slightly.  
  
That shift, that small, infinitesimal shift, released something that had been trapped in the heart of the plateau for a very, very long time.  
  
To Be Continued in Bridge Story #2 


End file.
